162 BAILLY. 



the cries of the tormented. He who has to suffer the 

 next day has before him a picture of his own future suf- 

 ferings ; he who has passed through this terrible trial, 

 must be deeply moved at those cries so similar to his 

 own, and must feel his agonies repeated ; and these ter- 

 rors, these emotions, he experiences in the midst of the 

 progress of inflammation or suppuration, retarding his 

 recovery, and at the hazard of his life." . . . . " To 

 what purpose," Bailly justly exclaims, " would you make 

 an unfortunate man suffer, if there is not a probability 

 of saving him, and unless we increase that probability 

 by all possible precautions ? ' 



The heart aches, the mind becomes confused, at the 

 sight of so much misery ; and yet this hospital, so little 

 in harmony with its intended purpose, still existed sixty 

 years ago. It is in a capital, the centre of the arts, of 

 knowledge, of polished manners ; it is in an age re- 

 nowned for the development of public wealth, for the 

 progress of luxury, for the ruinous creation of a crowd 

 of establishments devoted to amusements, to worldly and 

 futile pleasures ; it is by the side of the palace of an 

 opulent archbishop ; it is at the gate of a sumptuous 

 cathedral, that the unfortunate, under the deceitful mask 

 of charity, underwent such dreadful tortures. To whom 

 should we impute the long duration of this vicious and 

 inhuman organization ? 



To the professors of the art ? No, no, Gentlemen ! 

 By an inconceivable anomaly the physicians, the sur- 

 geons, never obtained more than a secondary, a subordi- 

 nate influence over the administration of the hospitals. 

 No, no, the sentiments of the medical body for the poor 

 could not be doubted, at an epoch and in a country 

 where Dr. Anthony Petit thus answered the irritated 



